


Boy, We're Running Free (Facing Light in the Flow)

by inpiniteu



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inpiniteu/pseuds/inpiniteu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byun Baekhyun, identification number zero six zero five one two zero seven eight three, fifty-one percent yellow, twenty-eight percent magenta, thirteen percent indigo, eight percent turquoise. </p><p>That's everything he is — a number in a file, a series of colors defining him, defining his career path, his schedule, his friends, defining his <i>fate</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boy, We're Running Free (Facing Light in the Flow)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sooenaemoured challenge.

Byun Baekhyun, identification number zero six zero five one two zero seven eight three, fifty-one percent yellow, twenty-eight percent magenta, thirteen percent indigo, eight percent turquoise. 

That's everything he is — a number in a file, a series of colors defining him, defining his career path, his schedule, his friends, defining his _fate_. 

There's almost nothing left of the world it once was before World War III, the biggest and bloodiest war Earth ever had to face. Only a few survivors are left now, many too old to remember their younger days, back when everything was different.

Baekhyun has only seen a few pictures of Old Seoul before, in history textbooks the government makes all the kids read once they are old enough. He remembers gigantic buildings, standing tall and proud amongst historical treasures and the words he has read once are ingrained in his head, almost like a mantra he can’t forget — _"Old Seoul, a bustling city. Greed, selfishness and unruliness were its downfall. Remember the past, remember your past. There wouldn't be New Seoul without the Old."_

History is important. The new regime says so, at least. The government teaches you about everything it deems essential to know and remember — how previous generations weren't properly guided, how unhappiness made them ruin the world and disturb the peace by always wanting more, more, _more_ , how countries that persisted in their old ways soon perished, thrown into chaos and how, finally, the regime only wants the best for everyone, giving you all the _happiness_ you need, served on a silver platter.

In another life, back in Old Seoul, Baekhyun likes to imagine he could have been anything, anyone he wanted to be. He pictures himself in his mind, working as a professional musician or maybe as an entertainment singer known by every single citizen of South Korea, his face plastered on walls all over the country, eyes shining bright and smile even brighter.

But dreams are only dreams, or so they say. There's no need to ponder over what you can't have, what you can't control.

In this world, nothing is yours to control.

 

\- 

 

Baekhyun is part of an underground rebellion, sought out by members who promised his parents, once part of the same resistance, to take care of him.

He doesn't remember much about his family. The clear, high-pitched voice of his mother humming lullabies or his father’s deep booming laugh — Baekhyun embraces every single memory with a fondness that haunts him at night. Sometimes, he swears he can make out bribes of their conversations — about better tomorrows and their wishes to escape a fate that wasn't theirs, about their fear of that dreaded day and how, maybe, the rebellion could have helped them hide their son.

That dreaded day. His thirteenth birthday.

The day he discovered how the regime worked, brought by force into a system he wasn’t ready for. 

The day he took the test and got handled his fate in a twelve page file — the classes he had to take in the government school he was now enrolled in, his major in university, his future job as a photographer, the address of his future apartment, the names of his future friends, both boys and girls, who were deemed well-matched for him. 

Love is a different case. While friendships are expected to be maintained for the good of society, love is only deemed important for red dominants. They are the only ones required to love. Baekhyun knows there's still a list of potential lovers in the file he acquired nine years ago, placed there to ensure future generations and probably filled with his some of his friends' names — Jinri, Sunyoung or even Taeyeon; the only girls he's allowed to meet. 

He has two options  — pick one of them or stay single, whatever makes him happy. 

Happiness, the main goal of the new regime, the ultimate aim of a government that is sick and tired of what unhappiness and negativity had engendered in the past — conflicts, hate, jealousy, murders, wars. Happiness, a word that, in their sense, justifies the system, justifies the fact that children are being taken away from their home, justifies your whole identity being reduced to a series of colors that determines who you are and the person you will become.

It works. 

People are happy; happier that they could ever have been in Old Seoul, some say. There are no decisions to take, no fear of rejection, no money issues, no unemployment, no place for doubt. There's no reason to want more, to crave for more, not when the government supposedly gives you everything you could ever want.

They have forgotten one thing though — there is only so much happiness one can experience before they overdose. It's a potent drug, one that may make you feel good and makes you live in a constant illusion but one that ignores reality and the unhappiness that needs to exist to keep a society in balance. 

How can you know you are happy if there's no unhappiness to compare your happiness to? What is the point of happiness, if it is not yours to create? Is there more to life than being a puppet? Baekhyun has questions. Questions that need to be answered.

That's the main reason he's sitting in the small cafe near his two bedrooms apartment, with two men he shouldn’t be associating himself with taking place in front of him. He's not surprised there are only two people joining him. They can't take any risk and big, unplanned gatherings would bring too much unwanted attention. 

“Baekhyun,” the taller of the two greets him, throwing a quick smile in his direction. Baekhyun takes a long sip of his now cold green tea, trying to stop his hands from fidgeting. He’s not a nervous person by nature but these meetings always put him on edge. 

“Suho,” he says back, bowing down as low as the table separating them allows him to, before throwing a curious glance to the second male facing him, the one he has never seen before. 

He is about to introduce himself before he’s interrupted by Suho’s clear although faint voice. Bugs are frequently used by the regime yet useless in such places, where crucial information is drowned in small talk but Suho has always been cautious kind. It’s probably one of the only reasons he’s still alive after having spent five years in the underground rebellion, an eternity when you have been fighting the government regime for so long.

“I’m afraid we will have to keep introductions for later. I’m on a tight _schedule_ ,” they all chuckle at this, perfectly aware that none of them had this meeting planned originally and that it is only made possible by members of the rebellion who are working for the government and messing up with official schedules. “We, Yifan and I, have decided to give you a joint mission,” he adds, slipping two thick files under the table as discreetly as he can. They are sitting in the farthest booth from the door, almost completely out of the CCTV camera’s range. The 24-hour monitoring they are being subjected to is one of the biggest obstacles to go around and on more than one occasion, careless members have been caught by the sharp eyes of those monitoring the civilians’ lives.

Suho gets up, fixing his hat, an ugly light blue and black checkered fedora Baekhyun wouldn’t ever be caught wearing, over his dark brown hair. “I have to leave now. Meetings between the two of you will be arranged frequently to go over your mission,” he tells them. They won’t be meeting again anytime soon. As an afterthought, he adds, rather worried, “I think there’s around five minutes before your time is up. Use it well, okay? Try to get to know each other and, guys, please, be careful. We can’t lose you now. The cause can’t lose you.”

Baekhyun watches him leave before turning his attention to the man in front of him. There’s something mysterious about him that intrigues Baekhyun, something that compels him to look into those large eyes one second too long, to plunge into those two dark pools and swim until he has found all the answers he needs.

"So, what’s your name?” he finally asks, holding out his hand, “I’m Byun Baekhyun.”

The other doesn’t take his hand and just replies in a bored voice, "I am zero one one two one two zero seven nine four, sixty-three percent brown, twenty-four percent black, thirteen percent—" 

"Don't give me this bullshit,” Baekhyun growls, his eyebrows knitted together. This is no time to be playing and the fact he is going to be partners with this guy suddenly rubs him the wrong way. ”Who are _you_?" Baekhyun asks once more, determined to pierce the mystery sitting in front of him.

"Let's just say I'm whoever you want me to be, Byun Baekhyun,” the man says, shrugging it off, “At the end of the day, nothing matters but what they make out of us."

There’s a fleeting moment of silence. Baekhyun looks down, unable to hold the dark haired man’s gaze, as burnt by his words and the way they sound — harsh, strong, _real_. 

He is akin to Pandora — a peculiar human being, unable to face the unforgiving truth; realizing only too late that it was more than he could handle.

When he looks up, nobody is there.

 

-

 

Baekhyun can't stop thinking about number zero one one two one two zero seven nine four. 

He hasn’t left his mind since their meeting a few hours ago. Even now, when he’s lying in bed, his mind isn’t focused on the mission and the children they are going to save but rather on his partner, his own Pandora’s box.

A brown and black dominant, a combination Baekhyun has never encountered before. He met a few brown dominants before, such as Jinki, the guy two floors down or even Siwon, the overly religious manager of his favorite restaurant but no one like _him._ No one being brown and black at the same time, no one so contained, so strong, so quietly confident.

He knows it is wrong — they should never have met with the government judging them unfit for each other, too different to share the same social spectrum. 

Yellow and brown are colors you would hardly consider blending together — the final color too dull, unattractive even; the equilibrium to a shade that wouldn’t be too murky difficult to find. 

Difficult but not impossible, Baekhyun thinks, before closing his eyes. Not impossible.

 

-

 

"Baek," Taeyeon calls softly, nudging him slightly with her elbow, "Aren't you excited? I’ve heard this movie is amazing." 

Baekhyun nods absent-mindedly, not really interested. He doesn't really like movies and laughs internally at the fact he's actually sitting in a place he hates, only because the government has put it in his schedule, thinking it would make him happy. 

It's not the first time it’s happening — him being scheduled activities he despises. There was that time he had been asked to join his school basketball team despite being twenty centimeters shorter than their shortest team member or that time when he had blown up an oven in a particularly disastrous cooking class.

He doesn't realize he has been staring into the distance until Taeyeon nudges him again, harder this time. "What's happening?" she asks, worry all over her face, "You clearly aren't here with me, Baek."

"Nothing is wrong, Tae. Just mesmerized by how lovely you look tonight," he says cheekily, sending a wink her way. He can hear her mumbling about how cheesy he is under her breath and he laughs, liking the fact he's embarrassing her. He's not lying though, Taeyeon is gorgeous. Always has been in his eyes, ever since the moment he first laid eyes on her, nine years ago. He had been only thirteen then, lost in one of the hundreds of learning facilities the government owns. She had been his assigned mentor and had helped him settle into his new school, into his new life. Taeyeon had been in turns his guide, his friend, his rock, sometimes all three of them at the same time.

In what feels like another life, Baekhyun could have loved Taeyeon. 

He did for awhile — or thought so, back when the government was his law, his life.

"Is there anything you want to ask?" she questions, tilting her head to the side. 

"Nope," he answers back, holding his chest as wounded even if they both perfectly know he's joking, "Talking my way out through compliments isn’t my style. You know this, Tae!” and seeing her nod, he continues, “You just look really good tonight. Did something happen? Or is it for me?"

Taeyeon laughs at the sight of his eyebrow wiggling in an obnoxious way. That's more like the Baekhyun she knows and she finally relaxes in her seat.

"Hardly," she laughs, "It’s my younger brother’s birthday today." Taeyeon is one of the luckier people in the system, being able to see her family after having taken the test. Her parents were considered good matches for her personality, a mix of blue and gray. 

Not everyone has to hold onto their memories, afraid they would slip away, as sand trickling through their fingers. Some people have it easier. He isn’t among them.

“Oh, little Taewoong?” Baekhyun exclaims, a grin creeping up on his face. He has never met the kid himself but Taeyeon speaks so much of him that Baekhyun almost feels like part of the family, “How old is he now? Eleven?”

“Thirteen,” she gushes excitedly, her eyes sparkling proudly with joy, ”I’m so glad, Baek. So glad he will finally find his happiness. You should have seen how proud he was to leave home and finally become a man.”

Baekhyun tries his best to keep a blank face. He has always been aware of how Taeyeon and her family are loyal to the system, faithful partisans ready to preach the advantages of the regime to whoever would listen. Hearing this, on the other hand, the flat, cold truth that she’s happy about something so _wrong_ hits him hard, harder than what he had anticipated. Years of admiration and care aren’t something you can easily let go of and knowing that they will probably never see eye to eye hurts, hurts a lot more than he would like to admit.

What would she say if she knew he was one of those rebels planning to overthrow her beloved regime? That they were plotting against those ideals, ready to rob children of this supposed happiness they were talking about by preventing them to take this damn test? That he was willing to give up his life to allow them to truly live theirs? How would she react knowing that sitting beside her wasn’t making him happy, not as it once did?

What would she say upon discovering who Byun Baekhyun truly is?

There it is, the realization of his own flat, cold truth — whatever her answers to his questions are, he doesn’t care anymore.

 

-

 

"We really need to save these children," Baekhyun murmurs, slumping down into a vacant seat. They have been going over their mission plan a few times now, meeting at least once a week — in libraries, coffee shops or even subway trains — the more crowded the place, the better.

Every single time they meet, Baekhyun thinks he is one step closer to figuring out the mystery that is his partner. Puzzle solving has never been part of his official schedule, but not knowing makes him appear all the more intriguing — a life-sized puzzle with heart-shaped lips and big, captivating eyes.

Pieces of it are left over for him to discover — piece twenty-four, the red tint of his hair you can only see when he's out in the sun; piece forty-two, the way his eyes widen for a split second when he's surprised; piece fifty-seven, what Baekhyun supposes to be a closet full of black clothes, from sweaters to pants, from caps to socks.

The pieces he has put together until now are the simplest things his partner has been willing to disclose, which only fuels Baekhyun’s curiosity. He keeps searching for key pieces and hopefully, today will be his lucky day.

"Sure, we do," his partner answers, raising an eyebrow at him, "It's the whole point of the mission."

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, biting down the sarcastic comment about to leave his mouth, not sure it would be well-received, "I meant giving them a new future," he clarifies, his face bright red, "We are going to offer them alternatives. They don’t have to be like us."

"What do you mean, like us?" There's no underlying irony in that question, just plain curiosity.

"Unhappy," Baekhyun whispers, careful not to be heard. It would be a disaster, being caught dissing the regime. The probability of getting caught is quite low, not in this crowded train where the noise is so deafening that you can’t hear yourself but you never know who could be trying to listen — tired mothers and their lively children, stressed businessmen talking too loudly on their phones or students complaining about exams. "Don't give me that look. I'm not happy and you aren't either. And what about all these people,” his gaze falling on the train passengers, “They’re wallowing in that premade happiness, courtesy of the government. They’re all running away, taking the easy way out. These kids deserve a chance at finding what makes them want to live."

"And then what? Do you truly believe these children we are going to _save_ have a future?" He spits out in utter derision, his usually wide open eyes now dark, unreadable. "You do,” he adds in utter disbelief, flabbergasted at Baekhyun’s positive mindset.

"I do.”

"They won't have a choice, Baekhyun." It's the first time he calls him by his name and Baekhyun wishes it could have been in another circumstance, during a lighter, friendlier exchange. "What do you think they are going to do once we help them escape? They have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide,” then, in a  lower tone, “Their only chance is the underworld, if you call that a chance."

Baekhyun closes his eyes for a moment, processing what he has heard, his partner's words replaying in his head in his usual flat, matter-of-fact tone. 

He's a yellow dominant, the lightest hue of the spectrum, uplifting and illuminating, offering and basking in hope — akin to the Sun, a shining symbol of better, happier tomorrows. He’s not used to dealing with people like him, so overly distant and yet seemingly ready to give their life for a cause they don’t seem to believe in.

He feels as if he is blinded by a darkness unbeknownst to him. 

“Why have you joined the cause if you don’t believe in what we do?” Baekhyun finally asks after three stops spent in utter silence. There’s no judgement, no anger, not even a trace of bitterness in his tone, only curiosity over the fact he’s sitting next to someone sharing his goals but not his ideals. “Why are you here, with me, planning this if you don’t believe we can succeed?”

“I’m here for the same reasons you are. I’m here because I don’t believe in what the system is doing but I’m a brown and black dominant, Baekhyun. You know what that means, right?” and as he sees Baekhyun nodding, he continues, white teeth nibbling on his pale pink lips, “I won’t save the world. I’m no hero and there’s no reason for me to think otherwise. That might sound selfish to someone like you, who lives big and dreams bigger but rebels are mostly in it for their own benefits, because they want to save themselves. Not the children, not the world. They’re just hoping that doing this, whatever this is, will bring them the happiness the government isn’t willing to give them.”

“Are you happy, then? Is this,” Baekhyun gestures, pointing the the both of them, “making you happy?”

“To a certain extent,” he confesses, running his hands through his black hair as to soothe himself, his voice low, “I’m just doing what I think is right, you know. I’m just doing this because I can’t not act. This bubble I have been living in has been bursted a long time ago and left me with two choices — create another one or face up reality. Not everyone is as noble, as selfless as you are, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun looks away, unable to hold his partner’s gaze, to look into the Pandora’s box that has finally been opened for him. 

“There’s nothing selfish about you,” Baekhyun finally says softly, almost shy.  “You could have taken the easy way out. You could have chosen not to break out of your comfortable routine but you didn’t. You’re even risking your life for what seems like a hopeless cause in your eyes. Who would do this? That man here?” he points to a middle aged man who continuously sighs while checking the time, “That woman over there?” he then gestures to a woman rubbing her slightly protruding stomach, “Give yourself some credit.”

Baekhyun smiles, aware of his partner’s eyes on him, “You’re giving me faith and hope, hope that someday, all the people around us—“ his voice trails off, observing the people surrounding them — kids poking each other innocently, teens basking in their new found happiness, “will also find the courage to discard the security blanket the government has given them and fight. You’re inspiring, number number zero one one two one two zero seven nine four,” he confesses sheepishly, not knowing what to think of the fact that his partner still hasn’t shared something as basic as his name.

They spend the rest of the ride in silence, both lost in thoughts, wrapping their minds around their exchange and what has been left unsaid.

But there’s one thing Baekhyun doesn’t fail to notice — heart shaped lips are even more gorgeous when they aren’t set in a straight line, even more stunning when they curve slightly upwards, in a warm smile only meant for him.

The Sun has embraced the Moon, if only for a fleeting instant.

 

-

 

“My name is Kyungsoo. Do Kyungsoo.” 

Baekhyun is hit with a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages, an emotion so good, so genuine he wants to feel it again and again — happiness. 

 

-

 

Spring’s soft breeze has arrived in New Seoul, chasing Winter’s icy breath, melting the ice around Kyungsoo and shattering his shell.

Step by step, meeting after meeting, Baekhyun collects new pieces of what he likes to think of as his very own puzzle, one that once seemed so complex he couldn’t even dream of solving it.

There’s piece sixteen, how he snaps unpredictably, pinning you down with a glare; piece seventy-eight, the way his gums show when his smile gets a bit too wide; or even Baekhyun’s favorite, piece five, the casual arm Kyungsoo sometimes throws around him and the way he looks at him afterwards, almost defiant, his eyes silently asking him what he’s going to do.

What he fails to realize is that he has neglected his own puzzle and is now missing an important piece of himself — his heart.

 

-

 

Meetings in the coffee shop where everything started are the ones Baekhyun enjoys the most. He loves reminiscing about their first meeting, in the very same booth they're sitting at now, and how everything was different back then. They’re considered regulars now, their faces well-known by the baristas working there, Minseok even giving them discounts, completely unsuspecting that their meetings aren’t really those of two friends scheduled to catch up weekly, that behind their friendly banter and laid back attitudes, something darker is blooming.

"This place is probably my second home now," he jokes, sipping on his vanilla latte, the perfect drink for contentment. There's also green tea for calmness, americano for sadness, espresso for bitterness or coffee with milk for moodiness. Ordering different drinks based on what he feels is his favorite way, his only way to express his emotions in a world where other feelings than happiness are frowned upon. "I have never been here more than in the past five months." 

Five months. A short period but what sometimes feels like forever, when he turns around in bed, nightmares of faceless children haunting him, their cries of help — to save them, to come for them faster — leaving him trembling, his guts churning so hard breathing becomes painful.

He knows, though. He knows they can't rush, knows they have to plan this carefully and use the seven months of preparation they have been given to their fullest. The underground rebellion has learnt of its past mistakes, back when its sole motivation was to go against the system, no matter what would happen next. It's different now, it has been since some of them, previous rebels Baekhyun never even met, were stepped on by the government like tiny, insignificant ants — dozens of them arrested after failed missions, tortured and publicly executed, their dead bodies dragged across the city as vulgar meat carcasses everyone was free to tear apart. It was a sight no one in the organization wanted to see ever again.

Kyungsoo snorts, “Not that it bothers you. You like this place.” 

“Yeah. Drinks are good and Minseok is pretty easy on the eyes,” Baekhyun teases, trying to make Kyungsoo crack a smile. Kyungsoo doesn’t reply, only bringing his cup of iced chocolate, an oddly fitting drink, fresh and sweet, to his lips. Baekhyun is sure he can see the shadow of a smile, though.

Kyungsoo clears his throat after what feels like minutes, but was merely seconds, unusually fumbling with his words, “I think I have something that could help us with the mission,” and seeing Baekhyun’s curious gaze on him, he quickly adds, his voice so low Baekhyun has to lean closer to hear it, “I have been working on a script to hack into the surveillance system. It’s nothing special and it probably won’t take them too long to get control of the CCTV back but it could get us around twenty minutes without any monitoring.”

“You wrote a script,” Baekhyun whispers, surprised. He is aware of Kyungsoo working as a computer engineer but had no idea he was able to do this.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I only took over two cameras and it worked.”

“How do you know?” Baekhyun asks, curious. 

“I’m here facing you. I wouldn’t be otherwise,” Kyungsoo replies, straight faced. Baekhyun hates that about him, how easily he can hide his emotions, how difficult it is to read him when he puts his mask on.

“I can’t believe you,” Baekhyun snaps, grabbing Kyungsoo’s hand under the table, squeezing it so tightly the blood in his fingers has rushed away, leaving them pale, almost as white as Baekhyun’s face, “You could have been caught. They could have killed you, damn it.” 

He never swears, it’s not him, not the positive, hopeful person he is but this just makes his blood boil with anger or with fear, he’s not even sure.

“But I didn’t. I’m here, with you, and we are going to do this, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo says firmly, not pulling away from the vise-grip hold Baekhyun has on his hand and squeezing back softly, as to reassure him — that he’s there and doesn’t plan on leaving.  “I worked on it with Jongdae,” He explains, his voice soft and his eyes fixed on Baekhyun’s, as if asking him to trust him. Baekhyun just nods in reply; it’s not the first time Jongdae’s name comes up in their talks. So far, Baekhyun knows that he and Kyungsoo have been living together for years, that he’s the reason Kyungsoo even joined the resistance in the first place and that he’s been recruited by Suho, both men working in the same hospital. “He’s going to show it to Suho and well, ideally, other members could learn how to use it. A joined attack on the system would make it harder to stop it and locate it, if they ever do.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun finally says, after a few minutes of silence, “Okay.” 

He doesn’t know what to think. Kyungsoo had always been the listener, either agreeing or pointing flaws in all the ideas he had submitted. He was present physically but never really involved himself on deeper levels, not like Baekhyun did and still does — with his heart, mind and soul. “Why did you do this? I—” he hesitates, as weighing his words, “You said it was hopeless.”

Kyungsoo just smiles at him, one of these smiles Baekhyun adores, “I figured you wouldn’t give up and what kind of partner would I be if I let you fail? We’re in this together, Baek.”

Together against the world. 

 

-

 

They say piano is the easiest instrument to learn, but the hardest to master.

Baekhyun is no piano master, but he’s still a decent pianist, decent enough for the government to schedule him gigs in this shabby, old piano bar, which is usually even emptier on regular nights. 

He likes having an audience, mostly old couples and single men in their forties, even if they’re not there for him. He likes sharing a moment with them, knowing he’s playing a part in their happiness, letting them catch a glimpse of his universe. It’s not much, unguarded moments of realness in a world where everything is fake, but Baekhyun is thankful for every spare moment he’s able to spend with his guard down.

There’s a new face in the crowd tonight. One with wide doe eyes and heart shaped lips that Baekhyun has grown to know well, so much so that it sometimes feels as ingrained in his mind. For a heart-stopping second, he doesn't know how to react. Warmth is spreading through his body as he considers getting up but the blissful feeling that is running through him abruptly turns into something else entirely. 

Kyungsoo is taking too many risks. Surely someone is bound to notice that something's off with his schedules and the cameras he’s hacked into, any day from now. Baekhyun winces when he realizes he has struck a false note and hopes no one is paying too much attention to the music in the room, but it's hard to believe that when Kyungsoo is staring at him, eyebrows raised inquiringly. Baekhyun finds himself unable to hold his gaze, lost and confused.

There is no place for love in his life, no place for Kyungsoo either. Be it their differences or their similarities, the fact they’re yellow and brown or that they are both men, nothing allows them to be together.

The fate of a yellow dominant isn’t to be in love. He shouldn’t think of love, shouldn’t crave it, shouldn’t even feel it, but it _is_ there, Baekhyun realizes, when he looks up and meets Kyungsoo’s eyes.

Falling in love, he thinks, will probably lead to his downfall, be his one besetting sin. What else could explain the sudden pain that wraps itself around his heart?

 

-

 

News broadcasts are nothing more than propaganda, Baekhyun thinks. 

He hates being in front of his tv every evening at eight o’clock sharp, dislikes being forced to watch the images they are shoving down his throat daily. Fake happiness tastes bland, which Baekhyun is everything but.

He remembers all the textbooks he read for educational purposes, for knowledge, in a desperate attempt to understand the regime. He remembers reading about, how before World War III, news would always focus on the most depressing events, showing people's hope crumbling as the same disturbing images were being broadcasted on all channels. Nowadays, there are no more horrific things, nothing demoralizing to talk about.

Or, well, almost nothing. But then again, captures of rebels do not upset the regime. They are the perfect opportunity for the government to remind people of what could happen, should they go off the straight and narrow and dismiss the happiness they are being handed on a plate.

Baekhyun knows it has happened before and he is aware that even with Suho's carefulness, with Kris' strategist mind, things can go wrong. Knowing doesn't mean accepting. It always hurts to know fellow rebels have been captured, to accept the Underworld has lost another battle.

Tonight is one of those nights. The rebellion played into the government’s hands by walking into one of their trap and two unidentified rebels have been arrested. Baekhyun hurts for the two brothers he has just lost and will never get the chance to meet, tries to catch his breath after picturing Kyungsoo’s lifeless body in his mind. Kyungsoo, who was crazy enough to take risks, again and again. Kyungsoo, who made Baekhyun's dream his, for him. 

The night that follows, he’s unable to sleep and focuses on what he does best, choking up on prayers and desperate pleas — he hopes.

 

-

 

One, two, three weeks pass by without hearing from Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun is now alone in a routine that was created for two, feeling lonelier than he has ever felt, unable to tear his mind from the meetings they are supposed to go to when he's actually the only one showing up. 

He is alone in their coffee shop and all the places they have started to call theirs, waiting for a sign, a shy smile, or a teasing comment over the amount of sugar he puts in his vanilla latte — the only beverage he has ever drank in Kyungsoo's company. He doesn’t drink vanilla latte anymore though and the sugar in his americano doesn't do much to sweeten his life, but then again nothing does.

He is alone even when surrounded by people in his usually buzzing schedules. He is alone at work, customers passing by without him being able to focus on their requests for more than a few minutes, his mind inexorably wandering off to those two faceless rebels caught by the government.

Hope is his only salvation, his only refuge from the pain he feels day after day. Hope is the only thing that keeps him going, even without feeling happy, without Kyungsoo. He is now back to being a puppet, lost amongst the thousands of artists featuring in the life-sized circus that is their society — a puppet with repaired strings and no one to cut them off a second time.

He is alone when he meets Taeyeon for a walk on the weekend or Chanyeol for a video games marathon, their usual cheerful selves too tiring for him to be with. He tries his best to follow their blabbering, adding little “mmmh”, “yes”, “absolutely” when he feels the time is right, but does little else to add to the conversation. They don’t ask anything but their faces of concern speak for themselves. He doubts they would understand but doesn’t find it in himself to tell them anyway.

One, two more weeks.

He doesn't know what to say when Minseok hands him his drink and asks him where his friend is. Baekhyun tries to brush it off, mumbling some vague excuse as to why he has come alone but Minseok's sympathetic smile only strengthen his loneliness. The extra cookie ("It's on the house.") brings some small comfort, at the very least even if it stays untouched, as all the americano and espresso he forces himself to order. 

His attention stays focused on the doors of the café, waiting for his Pandora’s box to come back. Baekhyun owns what Pandora wasn’t able to free out of the jar though — hope. And so he does nothing but wait and hope, hope, hope.

He hopes so hard that everything is alright, but Kyungsoo never comes.

 

-

 

It's Thursday morning and Baekhyun is waiting for his order to be ready, wondering why he keeps coming back here of all places, when he spots _him_ , sitting at their usual spot. He can't believe his eyes at first, not when Baekhyun's rays of hope have started crumbling, leaving him with a bitter emptiness he has no idea how to deal with.

Kyungsoo is here, after seven missed meetings, five weeks, three days, of excruciating pain, anguish, suffering. He's here but not really, Baekhyun notices. There's no obvious change in those features he has learnt to know by heart but Baekhyun can see it — the slight weight loss, the sunken cheeks and the somber, darker glint in his eyes that scares him.

"Fuck you," Baekhyun finally blurts once he has reached the table, unable to get a hold on his feelings, hysteria and anger bubbling in his throat, "Fuck you, Do Kyungsoo." He's shaking, almost as much as his voice, and the vacant, empty look Kyungsoo gives him does nothing to calm him down. "Fuck you for not believing I could have helped you go through whatever you faced. You didn't have to be alone." 

Something flickers in Kyungsoo's unfocused eyes; gratitude, fondness, a bit of both maybe, but whatever it is shows him that the old Kyungsoo is still there, only hidden under layers of grief and sadness. "I needed time," Kyungsoo finally says, his voice rough, as strained after weeks of little use. "You aren't my savior, Baekhyun."

"I could have—"

"No," Kyungsoo interrupts him, his voice low but carrying so much strengh Baekhyun looks away. "No," he says again, softer. "You want to know what Jongdae said before he left our apartment?" and he doesn't even wait for Baekhyun's reply, his voice so low Baekhyun has to strain his ears to not miss his words, "He said "I'm just going to save the world right now. Let's go grab some pizza afterwards, yeah?" and then he gave me that shit eating grin I hated so much and left. That's what he said," he murmurs, "but he didn't come back."

Baekhyun had thought he would be ready to comfort Kyungsoo, ready to take care of him as Suho had asked of him one or maybe two months ago, he doesn't remember. Baekhyun had thought he could find the right words but he was wrong, words aren't what Kyungsoo needs. He takes Kyungsoo's hand in his instead, not caring about what people may think, not bothering to hide their hands under the table. He just holds it, intertwining their fingers and letting Kyungsoo know that he's here.

"I want him back," Kyungsoo whispers, "I want to stop him from leaving and tell him he's not going to save anything with that face of his. I want him to fucking be back," Kyungsoo takes deep breaths, Baekhyun holds his. "I want to hear him singing while he's under the shower and have him giggle stupidly because he's made Suho blush. I want him to never leave and forget about saving the world."

Baekhyun doesn't even know what to say, torn between his beliefs and his feelings but he hopes, as he always does, that yellow will be enough to light up the world of darkness in which Kyungsoo is being kept prisoner. "He made his own choice, Kyungsoo," he finally says calmly, "There was nothing you could have done, no way you could have known. You’ve got nothing to blame yourself for.”

"I'm so angry with him, Baekhyun. He was my best friend, the only good thing I got from this damn regime and they took him back. They fucking took him back, don’t you understand? Why wasn't he more careful? Why did he bring me into this mess?" Kyungsoo asks, not expecting an answer, crumbling down under Baekhyun's eyes. "I tried to run away from all this. The pain, the rebellion," his voice is nothing but a whisper at this stage, "you but— I can't. There's nowhere to run, I'm stuck in this reality and there's nothing I can do."

"It doesn't have to be like that," Baekhyun says softly, his thumb stroking Kyungsoo's hand in a soothing gesture, "Colors fade and colors change with time. You don't have to be stuck anywhere if you don't want to be."

They fall into silence, and for a few moments, no words are exchanged. "Colors aren't supposed to change,” Kyungsoo breathes out in the end, “Not with the way they plan our lives and keep us apart, Baekhyun. Colors can’t mix when there’s nothing to mix them with.”

"But—"

"But you happened and you showed me colors I had never seen, you made me feel emotions I had been deprived of. Most of all, you made me want to hope,” Kyungsoo stammers, “and even if nothing can bring Jongdae back, it makes me want to believe that his death wasn’t in vain.”

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says softly, swimming in the dark sea that are Kyungsoo’s eyes, towards the light he can see in them. “I’m sorry it has happened to him, sorry it can happen again.” Baekhyun hopes it won’t, but for the first time, he steps into reality, Kyungsoo’s territory. It frightens him.

“I won’t let it happen again,” Kyungsoo promises, the light in his eyes Baekhyun was looking for finally peeking through, "They want me to be stuck in reality, I'm going to show them that they have messed with the wrong people, that reality isn’t what they make it to be. Will you be there?"

"Of course I will," Baekhyun says, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

 

-

 

"You know there's a chance we won't make it, right?" Kyungsoo asks, eyes fixed on the exam center a few hundreds of meters away. The bus they're waiting for, the one full of innocent and lost thirteen-years-old, has finally arrived, severely unprotected. Many government workers have been requisitioned to fix the general security breach they are victims of and Kyungsoo smiles, knowing that his best friend would have been proud of him and his accomplishment.

Baekhyun just hums and tilts his head to look at him, a peaceful smile on his face, a smile so genuine it could get the world to smile back at him.  "No more negative thinking, right," Kyungsoo corrects himself, "As long as you're with me anyw—"  
   
"It's going to be okay, Kyungsoo," Baekhyun cuts him off,  “We’re in this together.”

Together, from their intertwined hands to the beating of their hearts, from yellow to brown.

"Yeah. Let's do this,” Kyungsoo whispers as he leans closer, their lips brushing in what is their first kiss and could be their last, “Let’s create our own spectrum, Baekhyun."

One where yellow and brown look beautiful together, one where there cannot be a me without you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank to Axelle for the beta-ing and the never-ending handholding. Also, thank to Chels for her endless support!  
> A [ fanmix](http://8tracks.com/_20140428/i-wonder-why-i-am-so-sure-nothing-s-stronger-than-me-and-you) is available, enjoy! ♥


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